Several of us found ourselves troubled by our reactions on hearing the news this morning, or rather our lack of reaction: "Heard of him … Dignitas? … Another one gone? … Oh well …" The fact is that there has been such a procession of the troubled and ill to Zurich in the past couple of years that the news of another two souls dispatched with the help of the Dignitas staff is, in itself, unremarkable.

Why should this be so? It must have something to do with the benign name Dignitas, its grim appropriation of the word "clinic", and the fact that its staff are virtually anonymous (I've had to look up Dignitas to remember that its founder was a lawyer called Ludwig Minelli). The process is unsensational, banal. For better or worse, we are getting used to the idea that we can be terminated at a time of our choosing.

Think back a little more than a decade ago: assisted suicide appeared to be the property of a supposedly demonic figure called Jack Kevorkian, nicknamed Dr Death. Whatever one's feelings about his work, it was easy to recoil from this spectral figure, his "Thanatron" death machine and his "Mercitron" mercy machine.

There will be speculation about how a couple came to agree that they should die together. Did Sir Edward or Lady Downes take the lead? Did one bend the other's will? But this speculation too reminds us that the climate has changed. In 1983, Arthur Koestler killed himself and his wife Cynthia followed suit. Koestler had long been an advocate of euthanasia: he was a member of the Hemlock Society and vice president of EXIT. Did Koestler coerce his wife into killing herself with him? The question has been asked many times since.

Have we wearied of those arguments now? Debate over the amendment to the Coroners and Justice Bill, thrown out by the Lords last week, suggests not, but with each assisted death we become a little less shocked, a little more inclined just to shrug our shoulders… Well, those are my confused reactions. For some clarity and direction, read tomorrow's leader.